Illuded Delusions
by Werewolf of Fire
Summary: Sesshomaru's life seems to be spiralling. He's grateful he has Naraku to keep him sane; he can't stand the thought of his living an illuded delusion. AU, yaoi


**Disclaimer:** No copyright infringement is intended as I'm only borrowing the characters in order to amuse myself. So, in simple terms, Rumiko Takahashi owns the characters and I make no money off this.

_Warnings:_ Non-graphic sex (this may change), swearing, violence, angst, character death and OOCness. I'm not seeing a stereotypical happy ending either (for me anyway, some of you might be ecstatic over it)... All spelling/grammatical errors are my own. If you spot some mention them and I will fix them.

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**Illuded Delusions**

**Prologue**

The sun beamed down on the Western Lands of Japan, winking cheekily down at its Lord and Prince as they waited impatiently for the newest addition to their family to finally arrive. The wind played with their long, ebony hair, causing it to flutter and wave in the breeze.

Sesshomaru wished the sun could whisper; it could then tell his father when his new mother would be arriving and thus his father would realise that waiting outside the palace gates weren't going to make Lady Izayoi show up any faster. He would allow him to go and play and perhaps even fool around with him - though that was a stretch, even for the four year old's incredible imagination.

He was the youngest Lord of the Western Lands, next in line for the and a pretty child. His pitch black hair brushed his shoulders as the wind died down, letting the sun heat his pink cheeks as he took to fidgeting on the spot, his slightly too long kimono brushing the tops of his feet with every waving kick. His honey brown eyes - that flashed gold in the fading light - bounded between the ground and the golden orange horizon, his heart hoping the woman he and his father were waiting for wouldn't show up.

He sometimes glanced towards his father, who looked entirely too eager to the little boy's eyes. The man was three times as tall as him, his midnight hair reaching his waist (Sesshomaru wanted hair as long as that - perhaps even longer) and held in a tight, high ponytail. He had dark eyes that were as inky as the night sky when it was bare of a moon. He was decked in a royal kimono; white silk with blue chrysanthemums printed and embroidered over the light material and leather boots.

Sesshomaru's eyes caught on the polished sheath of his father's most prized sword; the Tenseiga. Its handle was gold wrapped with carefully woven cloth, hand made, crafted to perfection and - it called for his attention as it glistened in the sun.

Supposedly, a few decades back, a demon had once wielded it. It had brought back the warriors it felt deserved a second chance at life (unofficially), because it wasn't their fault the Lords ruling over them were having a disagreement.

According to the story, the demon had been killed by a foreign prince who had come to Japan for a visit, found the demon mingling with humans, thought it had them under a spell (because, why else would humans allow a demon near their beings and homes) and cut off its head with a terrifying cry. It was Sesshomaru's father's great grandfather who had collected the sword before banishing the prince from the land.

It was then that Sesshomaru's father had interjected with a mumble: "That was the reason why Japan had and will never have good relations with China". Not that Sesshomaru really understood what he meant, but he was sure that he would in the near future; he was going to start being taught how to be a Lord soon.

The young prince's eyes trailed down the ebony sheath. Unfortunately, the power to revive the dead couldn't be accessed by anyone other than a demon, so the sword's true gifts couldn't be given whilst at his father's waist. For now, they were its protectors, until a trustworthy demon came forth seeking to claim it.

Which was odd in itself; not many demons existed at that time. There had been a mass slaying of them after the villagers had grown terrified of a series of stolen children. To Sesshomaru, they'd decided that if they couldn't find the one who was responsible, they'd kill them all and save future generations the hassle of sifting through them looking for the troublesome ones.

Sesshomaru stumbled forward a step as his father clapped his small shoulder, and nodded to the pink, purple and orange glowing horizon with a broad grin.

"She's here." The tall man uttered breathlessly.

Ochre eyes rose to see a small party heading down the well made, dirt road towards them. Sesshomaru couldn't make himself feel at all glad as the men decked in well made silver and grey armour and perched on beautiful horses came to a halt in front of them, the familiar clopping leaving them in silence and with bated breath as Sesshomaru watched his father step up to Lady Izayoi's horse and held out his hand for her to take.

Lady Izayoi was a nice enough lady. Sesshomaru had been made to meet with her religiously for the past few months. He stepped forward as the last of the heavy, pretty pink and purple kimono she wore flopped onto the ground, as his father clasped her hand and whispered something that made her smile brilliantly in her ear (most likely some of that yucky, mushy stuff Sesshomaru had heard them titter to each other when they forgot he was around to hear).

Her eyes were as dark as his father's and they felt unrealistically heavy on his small figure when she cast them upon him.

Sesshomaru bowed respectfully, his small hands clasped by his sides, "I'm glad that you are here," he said, reciting it as though he'd practiced it (which he had), "Are you well? Has the trip tired you?"

She smiled kindly, in a way that made Sesshomaru wonder why he didn't like the woman, "Yes, thank you, Sesshomaru."

It was another hour before Sesshomaru was allowed to leave his father and new mother's presence, after they'd eaten and caught up on what had happened over the past week (which wasn't much, asides from Totosai accidentally setting Myoga alight when he'd taken to examining the bottom of a candle, during one of his history lessons. Lady Izayoi had giggled as he relayed the events to her with a smile on his podgy face).

Sesshomaru wondered how adults were able to talk all the time; it had only been a week ago that Lady Izayoi and his father had been married and arrived back from their honeymoon. But they seemed as excited as two friends who hadn't seen each other for years by the mere presence of the other. The young Lord didn't think he'd ever understand.

However, life went on, and despite his father's near constant good mood, nothing really changed (except the castle's décor; Sesshomaru could admit that his father wasn't gifted with an eye for art and the hallways were much prettier now that Lady Izayoi was the one telling the servants where to hang the various paintings being shifted about the huge building).

It wasn't long after that - a few weeks at most - that Sesshomaru was told he was going to be a big brother.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Winter bit him nastily as he trained, his bones creaking and aching and his muscles feeling so very hard and tight as he drew the bamboo sword clasped in his cramping hands through the air viciously, if somewhat clumsily. His feet were numb, he couldn't feel his nose at all and Sesshomaru was sure that if the wind tugged at his midnight hair anymore viciously than it already was his perfectly rounded ears were going to snap off.

He grunted as he side swiped, his body acting as a violent wave sliding over a rocky shoreline, the sound echoing in his ears as he stepped forward and thrust the wooden sword forward.

It hissed through the air again.

He continued, like a never ending pattern, repetitively, sliding through the motions effortlessly. Sesshomaru paused only when he the tip of his sword was pressed to the bark of a bare tree, the leaves that had fallen from it having been buried under a foot of snow.

Supposedly he was making great progress with his training and studies. Supposedly he was better, smarter and more skilled than any child of his age Myoga, Totosai and Sai had ever seen in all their travels and time (and who knew exactly how old the Ancients were?) combined.

But that didn't allow him to hide away from the cold when he was supposed to be training (even if his bared feet were starting to turn a mottled purple). He was only human after all; how did his father expect him to stay as healthy as he was when he had him practically dancing around in the snow whilst decked in only his training gear?

Not that Sesshomaru expected his father to notice his ailments, with Inuyasha being four that day and all. He was just Sesshomaru, his heir, and the most gifted nine year old in the lands.

Why would he need or even _want _his father's attention?

Why would his father think of bestowing it upon him when his second son, the son his current wife had bore him, was amusing its tiny mind by whacking him across the head with a miniature, wooden katana repetitively.

Sesshomaru didn't know. But sometimes he really wished his father would pay attention. It was awfully lonely training as he had been for the past year (It hadn't been so bad before Inuyasha had stopped getting up at all hours of the night and screeched until he had everyone in the castle's attention). And he wouldn't mind getting beaten into the ground if his father decided to spar with him.

The young prince blew ebony hair from his eyes and allowed himself a small break in order to tidy his hair. It His hair now reached the middle of his back, and was well cared for. With a stubborn frown, he tied it at the back of his head, mimicking his father's own favourite hairstyle, before he snatched up his weapon and swung it into position directly in front of him, dead between his eyes.

He viciously attacked the air as his brain ran through the thoughts haunting him as of late.

Lady Izayoi often asked if he wanted her to cut his hair, to get rid of the dead ends. She always smiled infuriatingly kindly whenever she did.

Sesshomaru always answered with a polite, "No thank you, m'lady," before he grasped for an excuse to leave her presence.

He still didn't know what she thought of him and his blatant refusals. If she thought he hated her. If she realised he hated her.

He only let Chiyo cut his hair. She used to be his mother's servant and was a foot taller than him with silvery hair and emerald green eyes. She'd devoted herself to him now that his mother was gone.

Sesshomaru felt that he could trust her.

"Sesshomaru!"

The young prince's head snapped to his left and he stumbled forward a step, on numb feet. His breath fogged up in front of him, hiding the redness of his cheeks as he puffed and huffed, practically gulping up air.

Lady Izayoi beckoned him to her with a delicate wave of her hand.

He went, grudgingly. And sunk into the snow with his every step.

"Yes, m'lady?" He asked politely, with a small bow.

She smiled a smile tinged with sadness, her dolled up face having been washed with an unpleasant sense of disappointment, "Inuyasha wants to see you. Come on inside, I'm sure your father won't mind if you cut your training a bit short. You've been outside for an hour or so already." She turned and motioned to the air beside her.

Sesshomaru hadn't ever walked beside her. That showed equality. That showed respect. Izayoi did not have his respect.

The young Lord walked several paces behind her, the wooden practice sword dangling from his waist, banging against the bumps of his right ankle bones with every second step.

He kept his smaller paces small, making them slower and slower as her own steps became fewer and fewer, attempting to line them up, as though they were horses being lined up before a race.

They eventually stopped.

Sesshomaru didn't allow himself to move until she'd continued ahead, her soft, melodic voice whispering her destination to him. He didn't appear inside Inuyasha's bedroom until quite a bit later.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

There was a weeping child in the next room, accompanied by whispered words, comforting and tender, being uttered by worried parents. From his place on his futon, Sesshomaru could feel the phantom hugs the child was receiving making his checkered skin tingle unpleasantly.

Sesshomaru sought to ignore everything but the throbbing bruise dabbing itself onto his shoulder, as though a an invisible painter thought his sun darkened skin needed a splash of colour. He shifted slightly, despite his room being bare of any life bar himself, he didn't want to show that his knees were beginning to hurt; he'd been kneeling as he has for well over an hour.

His father hadn't appreciated how he'd _saved _Inuyasha from killing himself. He didn't seem to understand that talking Inuyasha didn't work, that a small, _tiny_ smack would get the idea implanted inside his head much more effectively than any mollycoddling could.

Inuyasha had deserved everything he got. The brat was five now, he was old enough to know what was wrong and right, he was old enough to know not to touch Sesshomaru's training gear (even if they didn't get along, Sesshomaru didn't want to have to watch his father crumble from the lose of his newest son).

He shifted again.

"Sesshomaru."

The young Lord flinched, his head spinning around, almost as though he were attempting to fling it from his shoulders.

He hadn't heard the shogi open, however, his father was now standing behind him, an ugly scowl staining his usually handsome face. His haori was stained with what Sesshomaru supposed was tears.

Sesshomaru stood and rested his eyes on his father's white clad knees, his form rigid.

"I know you thought you were helping," His father started, his deep voice rumbling around the room like a mild earthquake and just as agitated as one, "However, I can't let you hit him. Children know that there is right and wrong, however, they don't understand that it doesn't matter the circumstances, it'll still be either one or the other."

Inutaisho continued after a moment, allowing Sesshomaru to suck on his words before he threw more at him.

"I've realised you're still a child."

Sesshomaru's chest tightened, as though one of those scarlet crab he'd amused himself with last summer, when his father's new family had taken him to see the ocean for the first time, had decided to test its pincers on his lungs and was crushing them effortlessly.

He wasn't a child; he was nearly ten! He'd be an adult soon! How could his father think he was! He'd savedInuyasha. _Saved him. _Why was he being punished? For a small push? How else was the brat supposed to learn? What was to happen once Inuyasha started his training? Was his father going to sit a few metres away and bandage every scratch he recieved? How was that supposed to help the brat?!

Despite how loud the rambling inside his head seemed, his father didn't hear it.

Lord Inutaisho continued, his rumble now holding a strand of disappointment, "You're not to go out for the next month, you are not allowed to go out for any reason other than to train. If you need to go somewhere, you will have an escort with you until you once again step inside this room. Is that understood?"

"Yes, father."

The expansive room fell silent again, the breeze crawling through it rustling Sesshomaru and his father's expensive clothes, creating the only noise. Sesshomaru resisted the urge to push his dark strands behind his ears from where it was cascading over his shoulders, caressing his cheeks as though attempting to comfort him.

Sesshomaru allowed his mind to wander, hoping that if he did so, the weight of his father's dark, sad eyes wouldn't feel quite so impossible to carry.

Inuyasha immediately bounded into his head, using that awkward skip-stumble he got around with. It was like he was tugging on his clothes again, begging to be acknowledged, to be picked up and coddled. Sesshomaru felt he could accommodate that.

This was Inuyasha's fault! He should have been able to take a little push, he shouldn't bawl like a newborn whenever something 'bad' happened to him and he certainly should have been able to tell that the big katana with a sharp, shiny edge was dangerous! What the hell was he? Suicidal? The snot nosed brat.

Sesshomaru thought of his training, of what he'd have to do in order to regain his father's trust. He was already the top of his class, the most skilled of his year, just like he'd always been. The Ancients called him a genius when it came to war. But his history needed work. Sesshomaru had a hard time remembering dates, though he was good at memorising events and what order they occurred in. Perhaps if he improved in that…

The young Lord quickly wished his father would change the subject (maybe talk about the up coming tournament Sesshomaru was training madly for), but it was flattened as quickly as an elephant could crush a twig as his father's strong jaw dropped and his mouth opened, the words spilling from his mouth like newly sharpened blades.

Sesshomaru listened half heartedly.

"Violence isn't a reliable teacher, Sesshomaru. Remember that," His father said, "When I'm gone, I don't want you to rule because you've scared all of our villagers witless. They won't trust you and they're bound to be far less productive than if you ruled with an even hand."

Sesshomaru couldn't help himself. He huffed quietly, "Why would I want that brat's trust?"

"Sesshomaru…" Inutaisho paused and seemed to be gathering his thoughts, his frown having carved itself even deeper into the sun darkened face, "I know you hold a deep dislike for Inuyasha, and I have inklings as to why those strands exists… But you are nearly ten.

"You know of the uprisings to the north of our lands, don't you Sesshomaru?"

The young Lord nodded, his dark fringe tickling his forehead. How could he not know? The people there were refusing to provide the medicinal herbs they'd promised his great, great grandfather. They claimed they're steadily decreasing standard of living was the ruling Lord's fault (though how they expected Inutaisho to make it rain was beyond Sesshomaru).

Inutaisho continued, his abyss-like eyes boring down on Sesshomaru, "A war might find itself upon us soon. I may die during it and I need to know that you'll be a wise, compassionate and honest successor, one that's fit to take over, so I will have no regrets in death. You don't want your father to have to haunt you once he's passed on, do you, Sesshomaru?"

Sesshomaru shook his head; the idea of spending more time with his father, despite the Lord being deceased was a nice thought. However, Sesshomaru could imagine the trouble his father could cause for him. The man was devious, ingenious and utterly annoying when he wanted to be. There would be numerous priceless ceramics destroyed before he was finished (and Sesshomaru would have to clean up the mess – figuratively speaking).

No. Sesshomaru wouldn't want his father to haunt him.

The room grew silent as Inutaisho knelt in front of him, his long torso holding him just short of Sesshomaru's hair line. The silken, white fabric of his kimono whispered in the quiet, the clatter of his sword finding the floor making Sesshomaru's eyes widen slightly in shock.

Much to Sesshomaru's surprise, his father's large hands cupped his shoulders, rubbing them tenderly as he smiled slightly at the nine year old, "Sesshomaru, you don't have to feel threatened by Inuyasha. Izayoi has told me about your frigidity towards both her and your brother and she's very worried by it. She thinks you don't like her. That isn't true, is it?"

Sesshomaru didn't answer, didn't flinch, make a peep or breathe at all. Honesty was best when talking to his father, no matter how much it would hurt the mighty man. But he couldn't bring himself to verbalise his feelings. He seemed to have been frozen by fear.

Inutaisho's black eyes saddened, growing impossibly darker, like bottomless pits in his face.

"I see." He uttered idly, morosely, as though the cat he'd been fond of whilst it'd been just him and Sesshomaru had died all over again, "Why is that so, Sesshomaru?"

The young boy almost deemed the question too stupid to answer.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The thick blankets did nothing to chase off the icy wind slithering between the cracks in the window. It wasn't shy about sharing Sesshomaru's futon as it slid underneath it and caressed his toes, legs, back and thin fingers in a decidedly uncomfortable manner.

Sesshomaru wound himself tighter, his knees having folded until they were tucked under his chin, and the blanket having been wrapped around him so snugly around him, he hadn't a clue _how_ the cold was creeping in. He was sure he'd have reminded someone of a vibrating sushi roll, because his teeth wouldn't stop chattering.

The weather seemed to change with his father's mood, Sesshomaru found himself thinking. Ever since the talk with his father that afternoon, from which Lord Inutaisho had left like water did a tipped bowl, his very being seeming to splatter the walls and floors with an infectious anger and disappointment. The sky had been dark and foreboding after he'd left him to his own devices. It seemed his father hadn't liked his answers.

Another flash illuminated the front of his eyelids, making him roll over again, this time so he was facing the thin shogi.

Perhaps feigning joy would have been better? Perhaps Sesshomaru ought to have babbled, because silence tended to confirm anything anyone thought no matter what awkward question was being shot at them.

He idly wondered what would happen now that his father knew he felt replaced, forgotten, and whatever else he'd dribbled out. Sesshomaru couldn't even remember most of his garble. The memory kept playing itself in his head, but it didn't have any sound, it didn't have colour. It was black and white and his father was all he could recall clearly.

Sesshomaru's eyes flew open for a moment, before he shut them tightly again. His head hurt. Right on top. It felt like when Totosai had knocked him over the head for being - what he called – a smart ass, except the throbbing didn't lessen. To make the boy feel worse, Sesshomaru's frozen feet wouldn't heat up, despite his constant rubbing of them together. His fingers were cramping from where they were clutching at his blankets and then numbing when he moved them to rub at his head.

And his room seemed to grow icier with his continuous efforts. And was someone humming?

Sesshomaru's eyes slid open, so they were barely cracks on his face and he peered around the pitch black room. It was illuminated momentarily as lightning flashed outside. Sesshomaru scowled and let his eyes fall closed again; it was as he'd expected, he was the only one in the room, he must have been hearing things.

"Are you cold, young prince?"

Sesshomaru jumped, sitting straight up as he stumbled in the direction of his door, slipping and tripping on his long yukata.

The voice had appeared just behind his ear! He was sure of it! He couldn't have imagined that! Even with his aching head and frost-bitten limbs, he'd never heard of anyone but the cursed being able to hear voices that didn't belong to anything!

"There's no need to be afraid, prince." The deep voice said soothingly, "I can help you."

Sesshomaru could hear his heart pounding his ears, feel it jump up into his throat; that voice was so clear! Was he loosing it? Had his Izayoi cursed him? His tongue felt twice as big as it usually was, whilst Sesshomaru was sure his voice box had escaped his throat.

He swallowed thickly, "Who are you?"

"Me?"

The voice was moving around his futon, Sesshomaru was sure of it!

"I'm going to help you, young prince."

The voice's words ran like water over him, making Sesshomaru's eyes droop and the pain in his head grow fuzzy. And there was something warm holding his thin shoulders. The boy struggled to stay awake and alert, sat up so his hands were planted firmly behind him, despite his weakening limbs. He shook his head, hoping to clear it and sat up straighter.

The voice was closer, in his ear again, "You're cold aren't you? Come. Get back into bed, let me hold and warm you."

A firework went off in the nine year old's head, bright and huge and wonderful. Sesshomaru only knew one person who'd have offered him that and had ever gone through with such action. Was it his mother's ghost? Her spirit coming to comfort him after the mess he'd created that afternoon? Did that mean he wasn't cursed? His father had told him when he was younger that there was always a chance of that happening.

"Mother?" He tried; his honeyed eyes practically closed, as he let the warmth hug him.

The voice chuckled, "No."

The boy's stomach dropped, his heart chilled with disappointment.

"You may call me Naraku."

Sesshomaru didn't register the quietly spoken name, though he noticed he was moving without his wanting to; the boy was being carried by the unknown entity, by the warmth. Sesshomaru didn't know if his eyes were closed, but the blackness seemed to sink deeper as he continued to float to his futon. He found that he couldn't stay awake, net even if his life depended on it.

He was laid down, then his blankets were once again over him, tucked around him and the warmth – the spirit had enveloped him. It surrounded him completely.

"Sleep, prince."

And Sesshomaru did.

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**Woffy: **A Non-100percent-AU fan posting a completely AU story? I must be totally insane…

Now that you've read the prologue, I have a few important warnings/things to get out of the way and then you can decide if you want to continue reading:

First point: There **is to be**** blatant ****OOCness**. As much as I want all the characters to be true to their original characteristics, it might not be possible all the time (as this is an AU and unfortunately, all is not as it is in the show). So, to all my readers, my stubbornness towards ICness might waiver a tiny bit for this fic. Nothing drastic (if something like that should ever happen, I beg you, slap me or something!), but it's bound to be there.

Second: Inspiration for this fic came from an Iranian myth. I won't tell you which one because it'll spoil where I want to take this story, but should you have read about it or know it well, you might be able to catch on anyway. I might tell you all at the end of the fic, if anyone's interested.

Third: If you have a question about anything and everything to do with the fic, don't be afraid to ask (unless you haven't read my Author Notes, then be prepared for an ear bashing; I hate repeating things). This is my first completely out of universe story, so I'm still working on getting much needed information into it well. Comments on that would be great and questions let me know what I need to answer in the fic.

So, please review! Where I do appreciate favs and story alerts, a review means so much more to me. :D

(BTW: No. I'm not dead, though my computer is. Unfortunately, the only access to the computer and to the internet I have is through work and I'm kept busy when I'm there – today though, teehee, the boss is out of the office –thumbs up-. So until I either a) get a new computer or b) fix the old one, I won't be updating at all – or it'll seem that way. Sorry for that, readers of DR and my other fics.)


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